I saw a woman on the bus, who, from behind, was a very tempting twin of yours, and as I tripped into the seat behind her, which suddenly became lava, I could think of nothing but the way you try to trick me into toast, every morning, by approaching the bed, adorable in an apron,…

There are glimpses of gold, in the silver I sift through, soft tresses, caress me, as they escape my curious fingers, on their way to explore my essence, you shape my shakes, removing your glasses. You kiss me, and I am a river.